You Are in Love
by sweetbellic
Summary: Niko can't particularly put the phrase 'I love you' in a coherent sentence. To counteract that, he decides to say it in every other way humanly possible. - Drabbles. Slash. Rated M for eventual smut.


Hi! :) These drabbles are based on the list available at the link on my profile. I'll be picking my way through them to see which ones I'll be able to work with, as I do not think I'd be able to do them all. Only time will tell. ;)

The phrases probably won't be in any particular order, though (by order, I mean it won't be like actual chronologically ordered story - which is a given, since these are all just drabbles) and more than one phrase in the list may be used in a single drabble - simply to avoid redundance.

Title is from 'You Are in Love' by Taylor Swift. Feel free to have a listen while you read if you'd like (I find that the song is pretty complementary to the story - I mean, there has to be a reason why some of its verses are the title, right?) or don't, whatever's your cup of tea. Whatever it is you do, make sure you enjoy. :-)

* * *

Niko's possibly more of a gentleman than he gives himself credit for, but _also_ possibly not enough of a gentleman to anyone else.

Since he and Packie have become a thing - that's what they insist on referring to themselves as, a 'thing' - he's been pretty adamant on looking after him whenever they go drinking. Looking after Packie would, of course, only be effective if he himself were sober, if not slightly buzzed - so, slightly buzzed he'd stay, if he even got to that point.

So, perhaps some would consider him gentlemanly for willingly giving up night after night of drink and good times just to keep an eye on some Irish brat - something he would never do even for his own cousin - while others would just consider him a paranoid tightass, like said Irish brat sitting beside him with his head face-down on the bar.

"You think," Packie had slurred, already on his seventh glass of Piswasser, "I'd fuckin' run off with some other guy if you wasn't sober, if you wasn't keeping an eye on me? Shit, Niko, this ain't Hercules. We're the only two gays in this joint. No other fag would ever set foot here." He punctuated his statement with a belch.

Niko squinted his eyes at Packie's use of The Word, trying to pretend the dirty looks being thrown their way weren't grating on his nerves. It was offensive, but it was a different kind of offensive. Packie was too drunk to care.

"Well, at least I know you're faithful, even when you're drunk." Niko grumbled, crumpling his hands together and gesturing to the barmaid for the check.

"Damn right I _am_. I may get around, but I don't fuckin' cheat." Packie waggles his index finger in the air as though it would help him prove his point. Niko only realizes now that Packie's the loudest patron in the bar, but it's not like that surprises him. The kid breaks into _song_ , moans and cries about his quarter-life crisis (which is already 4 years overdue, mind you) and could trip over a fucking cordless phone when he's drunk. _Nothing_ Packie does surprises him anymore. It's a good thing he's learned to deal with it all, and has the patience to do so. Even when he compliments the barmaid's tits just to spite him, like he did just now. He'll admit Packie's a pain sometimes, possibly even a liability, but he doesn't think he'd want to have him any other way.

Later, Niko pays for Packie's mountain of drinks before going off to the bathroom, and Packie offers to warm up his car. Niko responds by handing Packie his jacket before he goes - the negligent idiot always insists on not bringing one for whatever asinine reason.

When Niko walks out of the bar, he sees Packie in the driver's seat, staring out the window with something that would look like longing. Maybe it's just the alcohol that's making him look like that, making his eyes all watery and his gaze so distant. If that's the case, he's definitely in no position to be where he's sitting.

"Come on, out of there. I'm driving." Niko says, opening the driver's side door.

"I'm straight, man, I promise," Packie pleads, slowly blinking his rheumy eyes. "If I hit a fire hydrant or some shit, the wheel's all yours."

Niko narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. "I do not think I can count on you to _not_ hit something of more importance than a fire hydrant."

"Look who's talking," Packie retorts. "You ain't even got a license!"

"So? I can still drive, just not legally. You being drunk makes you unable to drive physically _and_ legally."

"You've got a point. But I," Packie jerks a thumb towards his chest with the widest shit-eating grin Niko will ever see, "still got this wheel."

Niko was in half a mind to just start prying Packie out of the car. He probably should've, but he didn't. He knew he'd try to put up a fight. It wasn't like he couldn't take him - he just didn't want to make it look like something it wasn't. So, instead, he simply went around back to the passenger side, let himself in and muttered, "You're a fucking punk, you know that?"

Packie snickered and switched into drive. "But you love me, man. I know you do. 'S why you're such a tightass about not drinking and wanting to babysit me."

Niko stares out the passenger side window, his elbow propped on the armrest with his chin tucked in his hand. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Then, Packie begins driving - to where, God only knows - at a much slower pace than Niko would initially expect. Niko doesn't know if he's trying to be careful, or if he thinks driving slowly will make everything stop spinning, but he gets his answer as soon as Packie raises his hand to his forehead and the needle on the odometer sinks from a 40 to a 20.

Packie's head is pounding and pounding as he crawls into a secluded street, and tells Niko that getting behind the wheel probably wasn't a good idea. Niko, shaking his head, knew that all too well. Then, out of nowhere, the kid starts _sobbing_ , spewing out apology after apology for being the stubborn bastard he is, and tearfully - and _mucuously_ \- begging Niko not to be mad at him. Niko was confused - this outburst actually surprised him for once - but patted his sniveling boyfriend's back nonetheless, promising that it was alright and that he wasn't mad.

Since Packie had yet to hit anything, he still would've been okay to drive. Niko didn't think so, though - he took one look at him and couldn't tell where the sweat ended and the tears began. His face itself was redder than a beet, even without the stoplight flashing red before him. Niko couldn't let him drive, not like this. Once the bout of tears was over, he rubbed his back for the final time and said, "Pull over. I'll drive for a little while." Or, maybe forever.

Packie sniffled. With that sniffle came the Packie that Niko knew and didn't want to admit he loved. "I knew you _loved_ me, Niko. And I fuckin' love you too." He leans over the console to lay a rather sloppy kiss on Niko's cheek, and Niko rolls his eyes as Packie pulls the car up alongside the curb.

The moment Niko steps out of the car, he wonders why he bothers to do this, to put up with this, why he bothers to drag this little prat back and forth like a fucking toddler. He has to wonder at least _once_ whenever he takes him places and starts acting up, sober or not sober. But then he _sees_ him, like he sees him through the car window right this moment, and _when_ he sees him, he sees everything, even when he's as pissed as he is. He sees the man who considers him a prince, his guardian angel, the man who loves him for reasons he'll never understand. The man he's found both a best friend and a lover in, his partner in crime. (Literally.) And it answers his question - for tonight. He knows he won't ever stop wondering why, but he also knows he won't ever start regretting any of it.


End file.
